A New Name and Look!

Greetings! This is the same blog you're used to, only with a new name! "Repaired Wall" is the name of our homeschool, as well as a way of life. Like He used Nehemiah to tear down and rebuild walls, God uses us to do the same thing in our lives. I hope we will continue to spur each other on as we seek His help in doing that.

This summer has brought joy and sorrow. I took a walk alone one day, and stopped to stare at two rabbits:

I received a loving gift from my friend Joy, an entire mandarin orange cake just for me. It tastes like a creamsicle, and is juicy like a fruit drink! 

 It's my custom to freeze cake. Whenever I'm left with almost a whole cake, I cut it in generous slices, and wrap each one individually in foil. Then I place these pieces in a big Ziploc bag labeled with whatever flavor the cake is. When I have a guest or just feel like a treat, it's easy to pop out a piece or two, leave it on the counter a few moments to thaw, then microwave it if it's still too cold. You'll never waste cake again!

Precious Daisy was our doggie friend whose owner, Dottie, works at the racquet club. Daisy was faithfully there for the years we've been going for tennis. Sadly, an accident occurred in the parking lot last month, and Daisy did not survive. We were heartbroken, and cried along with Dottie. God gave us animals as wonderful companions. Just the day before the accident, I had been able to enjoy extra-special time sitting with Daisy, patting and talking to her. Everyone at the club misses her terribly. 

On a lighter note, but still on the tennis topic, would you believe that one of our favorite courts on which to practice is situated right beside a field of cows? That's what you get in western North Carolina. Don't mistake a score-call for a moo! 

I was actually standing on a court when I shot this photo. My children will surely remember growing up playing tennis next to cows! It's a charming scene that also includes a playground, library, and town hall.

I surprised myself all school year by liking King Arthur as much as I did. This edition by Sidney Lanier is written in very hard-to-understand English, yet understand it, we did. All I did was read it aloud, and my children and I were able to figure out the meaning, even if we couldn't have come up with that fancy language ourselves. This volume of knights, damsels, dwarfs, jousts, castles, hermits, horses, and weapons is truly a treasure. We spent an entire school year reading it. Incidentally, I've found the same to be true when reading works we perceive to be "difficult," like Plutarch's Lives or Shakespeare. Just read, and glean what you can take away. You'll be surprised how much your children (and you!) take away!

When my dad was still in restorative care early this month healing slowly from surgery, he noticed that his sister sounded weak and tired over the phone. She had battled cancer since the early 2000's, but always seemed to move forward and bounce back from treatments. Never did she complain, always looking on the bright side, and lately, she did a lot of traveling. It was surprising when she took a sudden turn for the worse, and shortly after her doctor said there was nothing more to be done, hospice was called. This happened in a matter of days. 

Aunt Susan never lived close, but she never seemed far away. She was a star on Opryland's early stage, and later in charge of the park's entertainment. Several years after it closed, she made a fresh start at Disneyland in California. How we treasure the sweet trinkets she sent over the years from there! I look around my house and see many reminders of her. I wear the cute apron she sewed for me this past Christmas. God made Aunt Susan special; she slipped out of her pain on July 10, and we can't believe it. You never want a loved one to suffer, yet death can come so suddenly. May we all be ready to run into Christ's arms! 

Here was my view when I spoke to Laura, Aunt Susan's daughter, the morning of her passing: 

It was around 6:20am Eastern time, so you can figure it was dark and early for where Laura was in California. We've only lived in this house four months, but already this has become my place. This is what I see from my porch bench. Here, I sit and listen to squirrels rustling through leaves, birds twittering in the trees, and the breeze swaying the limbs. I watch those ferns dance back and forth. I laugh and cry, talk out loud to God, write pages in my journal, make hard phone calls, ask friends for intercession over texts, savor coffee, close my eyes, ponder God's Word...all at this vantage point, on the bench my kind step-father Jim restored for me. Since that sad, early morning, I always think of Aunt Susan when I go out there. A bird cried out in glorious song, and Laura could hear it over the phone. She said it sounded like her mom.

I was so glad for the company of dear friends that night. Liz and Burney are some of the most gracious, easygoing people I know. We love to have them over for dinner and Trivial Pursuit, men versus women, with our girls helping both sides. Our games last so long, we end up not finishing. Burney roasts his own beans and supplies the after-dinner coffee. That evening, he brought an extra treat: 

These are little potatoes from his garden, even the purplish things. He made purple mashed potatoes! They were delicious! I'd never had that before. How intriguing to dish out a heaping mound of what looks like blueberry fluff, only to find that it's mashed potatoes! Liz and Burney know something about everything, and are full of surprises. They cheered me up that night.

A few days later, I went to see my dad, who is finally at home after six weeks, but still confined to a wound-vac. This is a machine that helps heal an infection from the inside out. I stopped to see my almost-one hundred year-old grandmother, who remains independent. I still love going to her house. Talk about memories all over the place! 

Look at this kitchen! 

Don't you just love it?

One thing my grandmother likes to do for my children is give them cash. Here she is, writing their names on envelopes where she had stashed the dinero: 

Isn't she something? Is this house cool, or what?

And I have to show you one more thing that goes with the house: 

 Isn't this the cutest little old doghouse? 

I was feeling so nostalgic, I just had to catch a glimpse of my old school, St. Paul's Catholic. I have fabulous memories of this place. 

We had an African-American janitor there named Ernest, and his mother also worked with him. They were quiet and kind. The Catholic Bishop of the Diocese at that time was also named Ernest. When we had mass and the priest routinely prayed for "Ernest our Bishop and all the clergy," my friend Jennie and I couldn't quite figure out why he devoted special prayer specifically for Ernest the janitor, but didn't name any other teachers or staff, or at least the principal. We decided that "Bishop" was a fancy word for janitor, and that "all the clergy" must include his mom and others who worked at the school. For anyone who loves Beverly Cleary's Ramona, you recall a similar mixup that she had. "Oh, say can you see, by the dawnzer lee light," she sang every morning. A dawnzer surely must be a lamp; it gives a lee light. 

And finally, this place is on the other side of the school, on Dean Street in Spartanburg: 

It's old and beautiful, and when I was a kid, I dreamed I lived in it. I imagined walking from school right home, changing out of my uniform, and watching cartoons, eating junk food. I just had to include this captivating old place.

Until next time!

We love you Aunt Susan!

Susan Luers Burtnett Bablove

1952-2019

Latest Goings On

It's a gross understatement to say that it's an interesting time in our country. This post is not all about the election, although I'd be remiss if I didn't say a little something on the subject. 

I've felt somewhat on an island lately in my feelings of excitement over the juxtaposition of Trump and Clinton. What a time to be a part of an election! I told my children that never in my life have I witnessed such opposite, headstrong candidates pitted against each other for the most powerful position in the world. They can recount this time to their children, that they were alive during such a major election. All I've heard from others is, "Well, they both are terrible!" Okay, okay...but can you recall a more nail-biting race than this in your lifetime? This has gotten me interested in politics again! It's the stuff politics is made of!

I tend to stay away from big, anonymous forums when discussing political issues. My preference for any conversation is one-on-one or in a small group, with people who know me. It's important to establish equity with others before delving into topics about which folks are passionate. Where I live, in western North Carolina, opinions are at both extremes. As a conservative with many liberal friends, in the heart of the "hole in the Bible belt" as people like to say, I'm exposed to a variety of ideas that differ from what I believe. I don't think I have to "tread lightly," but rather understand the importance of having a mature discussion with others who are able to do the same. 

Those who know me would never label me a racist, homophobe, or characterize me as someone who is malicious toward any group. People are people, all made in God's image, and I'm able to love them because He does, without condoning anything that goes against His design. I'm not afraid to disagree respectfully with someone; God's opinion is supreme, but because I reflect Him, others are worth giving my respect, regardless if I think they're dead wrong. It's about treating others as Christ would; He lovingly pointed out truth, never compromising the design that He created and set in place.

My grandparents risked their lives to leave communist Cuba, and I hold firm to my dislike of big government. Conservatives have not stood for what they say they believe, which is how we ended up with a no-nonsense guy like Trump, like it or not. I'm a one-issue voter: abortion. This go-'round, a huge concern was The Supreme Court. Trump may not be who many of us would've imagined to be our candidate, but I admire his intelligence in surrounding himself with godly, strong people like Mike Pence and Ben Carson. His campaign manager, Kellyanne Conway, is impressive. 

Why are others afraid to admit these things? I voted for Trump...there, I said it. If folks decide to stop reading this blog or de-friend me on Facebook, they are showing hypocrisy. Saying one is "open-minded" requires actually being that way toward others who believe differently. Republicans nominated a blusterer like Trump because no one else has the guts to just say it. Why should it take "guts" to voice your values? That's the beauty of America...we all have a voice, even those of us on the right. I, for one, enjoy discussions with my friends on the left. It's flavorful, fun, and doesn't have to be contentious. Soldiers haven't lost their lives so that one little group can have its say, while the rest cower in silence lest they be labeled hateful. I hope I can be seen as a peaceful, intelligent representative of a side that hasn't done a good job of speaking truth with conviction.

"Let us dare to read, think, speak, and write...Let every sluice of knowledge be opened and set a-flowing." --John Adams

Two weekends ago, I had the yearly privilege of attending the Grace to Build Retreat that focuses on the teachings of Charlotte Mason. Like last year, I took away many morsels of wisdom to apply to our school. My friend and I were able to connect with other Mason moms right here in our area, and are excited to be part of a local group that will monthly discuss excerpts from Mason's writings. While I stated I enjoy conversation about various opinions, it's paramount to surround oneself with like-minded individuals. I need other moms who are specifically homeschoolers, Christ-followers who can sharpen my walk and offer encouragement on this narrow road. 

After Grace to Build, I'm encouraged to read with more voracity than before (if it were possible). Actually, speaker Liz Cottrill of Living Books Library told us that we should have eight (yes, ocho!) books going at a time. I currently actually have that many when I count the Bible. Three of them I read regularly, depending on my mood. I'm on a plan to read the Bible in a year, which I began at the start of this year, reading Old Testament in the morning, and New at night. One of my books, The Cloud of Witness, I have mentioned before. It's the treasure of daily poems, verses, and quotes that Charlotte Mason gave to the graduates of her school. Liz says that if you go into your closet and read just ten pages a day, you'll have a 300-page book read in a month. As I say, "little bits;" they add up!

An interesting read that I finished a few weeks ago is The Horse and Buggy Doctor by Dr. Arthur E. Hertzler, published in 1939:

Hertzler wrote this book at the end of his medical career. The first two-thirds recounts his memories of becoming a doctor during the late 1890's, the time of the horse and buggy. It is fascinating to hear firsthand the tales of trips that took days to reach the sick, and the primitive methods of curing ailments. This book was among my "box of books for $6" that I wrote about in another post. Yes, I actually read these obscure finds that most people would deem obsolete!

Hertzler educated me on outdated items crucial to medicine of long ago, like chloroform, ether, nux vomica, salol (given to babies with febrile seizures, now a component in floor wax), and bismuth. His chapter on kitchen surgery was fascinating, as well as his take on a sterile environment. Hertzler argues that all the pains taken "today" (1939) to sterilize the atmosphere aren't necessary; the key to staying germ-free, in his opinion, is performing the procedure as fast as possible. 

The last third of the book dragged on, as it had to do with Hertzler's education and "modern" medicine. I was much more interested in his stories of the beginning of his career than hearing a dissertation on his intelligence. Frankly, I tired of Hertzler's esteem of himself. The flavor of his tales in the first part of the book overrides his arrogance, but the details of his schooling and how smart he is just didn't hold the same interest. I recommend skipping Chapters 7 and 8, reading Chapter 9 ("I Practice Kitchen Surgery"), and ending there.

Since May, I've had the privilege of spending time with the O'Haras:

Confession: I had never seen the movie "Gone With the Wind." Admission: I read the book, then watched....and was so grateful! I can understand why, in 1939, when Hertzler was riding high on his knowledge, the movie was a big deal. However, I can't imagine watching it without having read the book. The movie was choppy, with entire plots and characters left out! I don't get how anyone can fully comprehend it without having read it first. As is usually the case, the book was much better.

It took me about three months to read it. I began it on a flight to Miami, and finished it again in Florida, during our vacation in Destin. It wasn't the only book I was reading at the time, and at 833 pages, it takes a while to digest! I encourage everyone to pick up a volume like this and not be afraid of it. Don't think you have to speed read it in a week. A feast is worth savoring slowly. A dear lady I know has had the same copy of Les Miserables on her nightstand for over three years now, but a paragraph at a time is progress. 

Growing up in South Carolina, I am familiar with much of the lifestyle here. Some ideas of 1860's Tara aren't much different than the "Who are your pah-rents?" I have been asked more than once in my life.  I saw parts of Scarlett I recognized in the me of my past, and cringed. I even felt sorry for her at times. I understood why she fell into Rhett's trap of debonaire, and how she couldn't keep away from him. Guys like him still exist in Charleston, and in all parts of the south. We're training our girls to stay away from the likes of him. 

I practically sped to the used bookstore for the sequel by Alexandra Ripley. She does an ideal job of maintaining the Scarlett we all know, yet growing her up a bit. Ripley maintains Mitchell's characters with a storyline all her own, taking our protagonist to the Ireland of her father. Both books are worth their weight in gold, yet I paid a mere buck apiece. I began reading Scarlett in August, and currently have a little over twenty pages left...don't tell me what happens, as I will finish it tonight! 

I told my husband I'm going to miss Scarlett, "The O'Hara," as she's called in this second novel, as she's been a part of my life for six months now. Good books do that; the reader forms a relationship with a character. Liz Cottrill tells a story about a friend who grew so close to a Jane Austen character, she actually prayed for her! I haven't gone that far with poor Scarlett, but have had every reason to based on the events of her life.  

What wonders happen when we take our forefather John Adams's advice to "dare to read;" we find ourselves trapped half the night to move toward the ending, and end up thinking, speaking, and writing. 

Until next time (I hope)!

September So Far

Starting off with this: 

...Because I just can't have enough candles or flowers! What joy such small things can bring!

Well, I can't speak of September without first mentioning that my daughter and Mom had their birthdays at the end of August...on the same day! Eight years ago when baby number two was born, "Gaby" (as they now call my mom) said she just couldn't understand why I wouldn't let her take "her present" home!

We celebrated with "Cookie Monster" ice cream (so easy, you can't believe it), and tried and true cupcakes. The birthday girls had fun getting together that Saturday with family and neighbor friends.

The massive news of September is that Abue, age 96 and a half, has moved in with us. If you see her, please don't tell her I told you her age...she says when people know her age, they treat her like an old person. And those of us who know Abue can attest that she definitely does not "act her age"!

She arrived on Saturday, September 3, around 3pm: 

"Hey! Ya llegué!" 

We bought our house with the idea that the downstairs bedroom would be perfect for guests, or someday for older relatives who are ready to no longer live alone. After praying and discussing Abue's living situation for six months, it was hard to believe the time for her to move in had finally arrived. The wonderful part is that she decided herself to come...no one forced her to make this transition. Even better, she still has her home of over fifty years in Spartanburg, so she hasn't been faced with the sadness of seeing it sold. Hers is the ideal situation.

Abue's room is her own space, a type of small "apartment" within our home:

To the left of this television is where her private bathroom is located. The window in this photo overlooks the front yard and pond.

Here is Abue by her other window. We placed the recliner where she would have a nice view of the TV. Cable has been hooked up into her room, where never misses Wheel and Jeopardy, and can watch Telemundo to her heart's content. One thing I love is that both the bed and dresser belonged to Jeremy's grandmother...how special that now my grandmother gets to use them!

We even found the perfect photo of Papi for the other side of the bed, right by the window, next to God's Word. I think he would love this space of Abue's!

Just a little artistic posing...Abue looking into the mirror on her dresser. That's her mother in the photograph on the left, and some photos of young Abue and her sister on the right. 

Abue is independent, for the most part. She gets up late, fixes her oatmeal and café cubano, does Sudoku, reads Spanish books, and watches her shows. She also loves to sit outside and take short walks throughout the yard. Abue sometimes will go with me on errands, but is fine staying home, too. We still eat lunch in the kitchen, but now that there are five of us at dinnertime instead of four, our family eats together at the dining room table. Abue and I have a glass of wine some nights, but without fail, she's in her room by seven for her game shows. On Sunday, I introduced her to the preaching of John Piper as we watched a sermon during which he had an interpreter. Abue leads a simple, enjoyable life, and her being here is being used by God in different ways for all of us.

In the wee, dark hours of Sunday morning, I should've been sleeping. Instead, I was tossing and turning, unable to get comfortable, and rolling thoughts over in my mind...things I had to "work out." God keeps showing me that it's up to Him, not me, to do this working out of items I try to organize just so. After I finally fell asleep and thankfully woke up refreshed, the Lord showed me that day that I had no need to worry about anything; He worked it all out in His own way, with grace and love. Why should I be surprised? It only allows me to recall His goodness the next time I'm tempted to do His job. 

Here's something that I had to take a photo of, of course, "for the blog":

The fantastic part is that, while I was searching for a type of soup in Aldi, my daughter noticed this open door and pointed out the sign: "Look, Mom! Isn't that funny?" I'm definitely training her up to appreciate silly little things that make us smile. They're all around if you try to notice them. I loved telling her that I got a kick out of it, and all of us laughed together.

One last thing...Does your local library have a shelf near the entrance/exit with discarded books for sale? All of our branches do, and most of the time, the books are only a quarter apiece. You surely know that I'm crazy about books, especially ones that I get for barely nothing. I darted into the library the other day to grab a video on hold that had arrived, and quickly perused the sale shelf on my way out. These were mine when I stepped out the door:

What a way to spend seventy-five cents! It truly is the little things that are big.

Until next time!

Cafe Cubano & Little June Bits

What about this quote?

Chew on this, and consider washing it down with Bustelo, the coffee preferred among Cubans. To make Bustelo, you will need a can of the stuff (purchased at Walmart or any decent grocery!), some sugar, a little water, and a Cuban coffee pot, or cafetera. 

Remove the top from the cafetera, and fill the bottom with water, almost to the top, but not quite. Take the filter and pack it with Bustelo. Fill a small cup (shown above, known as a jarrito) with one or two spoonfuls of sugar. Most people use two, but I like my coffee bitter. Put the cafetera onto the stove burner on med/high heat, and as soon as it produces liquid, take it off and drop a little into the sugar. Stir vigorously to produce espumita, or that nice, cloudy look. The cafetera will continue to fill; pour all contents into the jarrito and stir. You will have enough strong, rich Bustelo to fill about four tazitas like the little one pictured above. Enjoy! Remember...this isn't supposed to taste like American coffee. It's a shot, made to instantly recharge your batteries!

My grandmother, 96 years young, preparing Bustelo in my kitchen. 

Little June Bits:

What a blessing it was to be at the tennis house earlier this month and witness these babies in a high-up nest! The mother flew up and away so fast, I barely had time to see that she might have been a robin. You can tell they were waiting for her return!

Speaking of robins, here's a sweet selection from Edwin A. Mason's book, Robins, Follett Publishing Company, 1966. The girls and I love snuggling on the sofa and reading books like this:

Another work we've enjoyed is Elizabeth Kinsey's book, This Cat Came to Stay! (Franklin Watts, Inc., 1955). What made it extra special is that it belonged to my Dad as a boy, and then I read it as a child. What fun my girls and I had, reading about Patsy, William, Mrs. McGinis (the cat), and the hurdy-gurdy man!

And while we're on the topic of reading, it's important that we keep up our reading practice this summer. My children and I have worked too hard to slack completely off. Fortunately, there is a wealth of resources available that makes it easy to keep moving ahead each day. Here are two that I'm using with my girls:

If you're looking for an ideal, standard school reader, I highly recommend The Headway Program, originally published in 1979 by Open Court. This is the same reader I used in third grade (I ordered this particular copy from Amazon), and the stories are rich and interesting, complete with vocabulary lists and other activities. The Place Called Morning keeps my daughter's interest, and we are having fun poring through it several times a week during summer.

Do you remember SRA kits from elementary school? This one is from 1990, a treasure found by my mother at Goodwill, for which she paid $2 (on eBay, some go for $400!). Students read a booklet with a short story, and there are corresponding questions. I've been having my daughter read, then just narrate back what she recalls. Worth a few bucks, even if only used here and there during these summer weeks! I also have her practicing with books like Arnold Lobel's Frog And Toad Together, a family favorite. 

Here are some things growing in the yard:

Purple and yellow lantana, hearty and sweet-smelling!

A bush of red roses that my daughter selected and cares for.

Lettuce that my daughter planted last year! So fresh, crisp...and uneaten by critters!

Incidentally, I think Aldi is a fabulous place to shop: no frills, one brand, no runaway shopping carts, and perfect flowers! Every bouquet that I buy at Aldi (for $3.99, by the way) lasts at least two weeks, sometimes longer! Here is an orange one that I got there, to which I added some red roses from the bush mentioned above: 

Small things like this cost little, but add a lot!

Here are a few "goofies" I've come across lately:

I guess it wouldn't be June without my obligatory itching from Poison Ivy. This year, my husband insisted I douse my trouble with this lotion.

Only after a few days did I notice how special this particular kind is:
"Elegant," it says! The superfluous dots after "Thicker" baffled me a bit, and I confess I was feeling anything but elegant with this pink paste all over my arm! In its defense, I did stop itching...(dots)...eventually.

And what's this?! Only what you find on the floor of the teachers' bathroom when your church meets in an elementary school! Every Sunday, this little guy is greeting me when I stop by...and every Sunday, I feel sorry for the teacher who has to use it! Remember, back in the day, when the janitor would sprinkle some special kind of powder over "the mess" when a kid got sick at school? I guess this is that same "powder"! The name makes no bones about it.

Just in case you were vacillating between potato chips and biscuits and gravy, but simply can't decide...here's the product for you! 

I'm not sure whether to make a face, or salivate! 

When I spotted this at a downtown store, I asked the cashier if I could photograph it, because I knew I needed it for the blog! 

If you ever spy anything silly like this, or like the stuff I've posted above, please send it to me. Things like this keep me smiling! 









Last week, I crossed the threshold from thirties to a new decade!!!!!! My dear husband presented me with the perfect, most beautiful, luscious, rich, decadent CAKE on the planet. The flavor: COFFEE!!!! (The blog has come full circle!). 

All I want to do is smell it, taste its coffee fragrance, and literally stick my face in it! Those fortunate enough to try it can attest to its being on a practically unachievable level of cake-dom. I also want to acknowledge the lovely roses, still beautiful on the kitchen table:

Roses are lovely, as you and I are to God...He created us beautiful, in His image. Every day I come to truly understand a little better what that means. He doesn't see me as I do; His Son's blood has washed me clean, making my sin as far as the east is from the west. We don't just "know" this; it's a lifetime of learning, of painfully allowing Christ to show us who He is, how almighty, and who we are in light of that. 

I love Dr. Rosaria Butterfield's book, The Secret Thoughts of an Unlikely Convert (Crown & Covenant, 2012). She challenges the way in which many Christians present their testimonies, cleverly claiming to have "made a decision for Christ." Rosaria's own testimony is racy, real, and the kind that makes the self-righteous shudder. She says, "I'm proof of the pudding. I didn't choose Christ. Nobody chooses Christ. Christ chooses you or you're dead. After Christ chooses you, you respond because you must" (p. 81).

Like Rosaria, my own story isn't "pretty." Jesus takes our ashes and makes them into beauty (Isaiah 61:3). He takes my mess (yours, too) and sprinkles his own mess-be-gone over it in the form of His blood! I, too, know the ugliness that lies behind the mask, but am seeing the newness that comes from crying out to Christ in the midst of the muck. I think most "believers" aren't real because we haven't been taught how to be, but we need only look to Jesus. He doesn't condone our sin, but convicts us by lovingly pointing us to the cross. He enables the wounded parts of our hearts to heal if only we ask Him. 

As I have come under enemy attack through doubt and reminders of my past, this has become one of my favorite passages. Read it closely, and often:

"For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh,

For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal but mighty in in God for pulling down strongholds, casting down arguments [KJV: "imaginations"] and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God, bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ." (2 Corinthians 10:3-5).

The final part of this passage is often taken out of context, putting a burden on ourselves that we can't bear: It's not my job to take captive every thought; it's Christ's job, by the mighty power that He has for pulling down strongholds. No amount of faking it, making do, or positive thinking on my part will grow me to be more Christlike; only relying on Him will make me more like Him! We try so hard to do, do, do...and never simply say, "Lord, there's a piece of my heart that's still believing lies. Please take that piece and heal it, making it obedient to You. Let me believe Your truth, not the world's lies." 

It seems like not much, but that's the point...God is the One who fixes our hearts, messes, minds, and lives. He made you and me, and knows who He designed us to be. Allow Him to bring you back to who you are in Him, the real you.